The Poisonwood Bible, by Barbara Kingsolver
I just finished reading The Poisonwood Bible.
Amazing book. Superb book. Unspeakably sad book I don't think I will ever be able to read again. Had me sobbing helplessly for hours at more than one point, and one night in the middle of the book I ended up reversing childhood roles, going into my daughter's room, gathering her up in my arms, and taking her back to bed with me so I could sleep with my arms around her and feel safe.
And yet...while stretches of the book could not hold my interest (the entire novel is told in alternating first person accounts by a missionary's wife and her four daughters, dragged into the Congo in 1959...I only actually liked three of the daughters and only loved two, so while I listened well when my friends spoke I had trouble focusing on the other(s)...), there were these shining moments of acute truth and beauty throughout...Kingsolver understands a mother's heart, good and bad.
It's also a book that's gotten under my skin and into my gut, changing and affecting the way I look at the world I live in, and my own world's relationship (a fairly abusive one, at that) with the rest of the world, with the poor, with the earth...
A beautiful book. Read at your own risk.